These Little Moments
by kitsune21809
Summary: Mary Ann/Gilligan Drabbles - She's beginning to realize how much she goes out of her way to get his attention, and how often he seems to give it to her.
1. Chapter 1

_Did a few grammar checks and such. I'm so glad so many people like this, I was a little worried it might seem OOC. Actually, I've only just got into the GI fanbase. I'm only 20 but I have such a fondness for the old shows, Star Trek, Gilligan's Island, Dark Shadows... Something my parents didn't inherit I guess. But I saw a commercial the other day for MeTV that said Gilligan's Island was gonna start showing and it looked interesting so I watch a few episodes online and I was in love. _

_If your looking forward to more, then happy news! This isn't complete. I still have a few drabbles in my head yet and come up with even more with ever episode I watch so if your a die hard MAG fan like me, then be prepared for lots of fluff and love and maybe even some limey goodness._

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**Gilligan's Island Drabbles**

Just some short little ideas that popped into my head while watching the series.

Mary Ann/Gilligan

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**1. ****Rain**

She sighs, wrings the water from her hair and sits against the cave wall as Gilligan tempers the fire across the way. Outside the rain pours in rivets at the mouth of their temporary home, then lightning strikes, illuminating the interior and sending shadows dancing over the walls. Thunder follows, loud and frightening and Mary Ann flinches at the sound.

She snuggles into the borrowed red shirt, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and reveling in the warmth it brings. Watches her companion hang her own dripping shirt up by the fire, then stalks back to her. He sits beside her, folds his hands over his stomach and twiddles his thumbs nervously. She finds it endearing and smiles warmly at him as she sets a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Gee, I'm sorry for all this Mary Ann." He says, removing his ever present white hat to wring in his hands. "Gilligan, it's not your fault."

They'd been exploring the island when the storm hit. She smiles. "In fact, if it hadn't been for you finding this cave, we'd still be out there!"

He shrugs and drops his head back against the cave wall. "I know, but if you hadn't been helping me, you could be home right now instead of in this cold, damp cave."

"True." Mary Ann says, replacing her hand with her cheek as she nestles into his side. He's surprisingly warm despite the slight chill of the cave. True to his nature, he stiffens and his hands stop twisting at his cap. "But how boring would that be?" She continues.

She plucks the cap from his frozen fingers and drops it onto his head, finishing with a kiss to his cheek. He just sits there, and his thumbs resume their restless dance. The combined heat from her personal pillow and the fire at her feet lulls her into a dreamy state, and her eyes flicker as she tries to stay awake.

She snakes her arms loosely around him, worming her way beneath his arm. She's tired, and it's been a long day. All she wants to do is sleep but is reluctant to in this atmosphere. Lightning flashes, and she tenses, waiting. Even though she expects it, the resounding crash of thunder makes her jump anyway, and she briefly clings to her companion until the sound passes.

Gilligan relaxes and glances down at her frightened whimper. It's subtle enough but he catches it all the same. There's a grimace on her face as she buries it into his side.

"I didn't know you were scared of thunderstorms, Mary Ann." He says. She blows a steady breath through her nose and picks absently at a loose thread in his shirt. "It's not that really…" She says. The smell of him soothes her, the scent of ocean and wild banana and something else…something so…_Gilligan_. "When I was a little girl, a twister swept through our farm. So I'm not scared of them, just…wary."

She looks up into his curious blue eyes. "Which is one of the reasons why I'm glad I'm in this stuffy old cave and not back home in my little hut. If it gets too bad, I'll be safe and sound right here with you."

His lips twitch into a semblance of a grin and the arm wrapped around her shoulders tightens slightly.

**2. ****Distraction**

He can't stop thinking about her. It's been days since the incident with Mrs. Howell's attempt at matchmaking and Gilligan's beginning to think her plan may have worked after all. Most of the time, the wiles of women do not affect him. But all men have their moments and objects of weakness.

Now, he's starting to lose control of something that had never been an issue before, and it's all _her __fault_. His every thought is consumed by her; her smile, her laugh, her pies, her singing…_Mary Ann!_

The way she speaks to him in that sweet, affectionate way and her gentle smile causes his hands to twitch. The way her hips jut out when she walks causes his eyes to roam. The way she struts by him so he'll catch her spicy scent as she passes causes his mind to go places it shouldn't.

He's losing control of himself, and he doesn't like it. What he likes even less is that he's starting to enjoy it.

**3. ****Temptation**

It's his birthday, and the party is a grand one (and how could it be any less with Mrs. Howell the planner?). There's tiki torches scattered around the perimeter of the camp and the lights cast a warm glow around the huts. Ginger has taught Mary Ann how to Hula dance and as part of her (Ginger's) gift to him, she has choreographed a dance for the night.

But his eyes aren't on Ginger (though he isn't in the least ungrateful) but on Mary Ann. He's seen her in less, he knows he has. But there something very sensual about the palm fronds skirt that clings low around her waist. There's a certain beauty in the tropical flowers in her hair and around her neck, in her gentle movements and teasing smile. His hands itch. The light kisses her skin, flickers shadows across her naval and in the slight dip above it. He wants so desperately to touch her but his fingers pull at his hat instead. She sends him a teasing smile when she catches him watching her so intently, her hands beckoning him to her like a siren, but Gilligan stays rooted in the sand.

He's always wanted her in one way or another, yet he's always been able to have some sort of control; but ever since she decided to get closer, to break all rules of should and shouldn't, he can't starve off his hunger in front of people much longer, he won't be able to stop himself when the days comes and he pulls her to him and outright consumes her in public view.

**4. ****Beautiful**

He's drunk, but not heavily so, only enough to make his head swim and his tongue sluggish and his steps stagger. It's the Skipper's fault, when the crate of assorted alcohol had washed up on the beach following a storm, the man had insisted on a drinking match. Hell bent and determined to settle a bet they'd made back in their Naval days, (it had come as quite the shock to him when he'd found out that the bumbling buffoon that was his lieutenant could outdrink any sailor aboard the ship) and with a smile and weary sigh, Gilligan had conceded.

The match ended as it always did after a bottle and a half of hard tequila, with the Skipper completely knackered and passed out in his bunk and Gilligan stumbling around giggling lightly to himself in his victory. He made it as far as the beach before Mary Ann caught up to him, her hand clamping around his left arm while his right waved the half empty bottle in the air as he turned in surprise.

"Ooohhh, hey…" He pauses, swaying lightly in her grip. "Mary Ann."

She smiles, pulls him back towards the huts. "C'mon Gilligan, I think you've had quite enough. Time for bed."

She stops at the intense stare he's giving her, as if she's said something strange but as she backtracks over her words she can't find anything wrong. "Gilligan?"

Suddenly, he smiles and drops back into the sand and she screams as he accidentally pulls her down with him. "Ya'know? I think I'mma sleep sh'ere." He slurs slightly and she sighs, cushioning her head on her arm. She'll humor him for now, wait till he's asleep, then go get the Professor to help carry him back to his hut. "Alright Gilligan." She closes her eyes and waits.

For a moment, he's quite, just staring at her. The moon is full and illuminates the area with bright, blue light. The waves crashing below lull him into an almost tranquil state. His eyes fixate on her hair (she's wearing it down tonight), it's longer, brushing past her shoulder blades and contrasts sharply with the white sand. It's shiny and wavy and suddenly he wants to touch it. Her eyes flutter open as his long fingers slip into the tangles by her ear, runs through the silky threads as if they were made of water. His face is blank, thinking.

"Ya'know something…" He whispers and she hums softly in question. "I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I ever seen."

His fingers leave her hair to trace over her cheek and she releases a breathy sigh as she smiles. "Really?"

His thumb traces a path down her jawline, then back up again to her hair. "Ever since I first saw you."

"That's…I don't know what to say, Gilligan." She whispers, warmth pooling into her chest as she smiles shyly at him. "Makes me feel really good." Mary Ann brings her own hand up and twines her fingers with his. They're rough and work worn, but the backs are soft and smooth like old leather. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles. "You know other people have said that to me before, and…it was meaningless."

"Why, cause you thought they were pulling your leg?" The childish way in which he asks makes her grin. "No," She shakes her head, leaning up to prop her chin in her other hand, watching their hands. "No, I just, I don't know…from them it was just…meaningless. And then, you say it and I hear it…I really hear it."

She laughs at the absurdity of it all and falls back into the sand, releasing him. "I wouldn't lie to you, Mary Ann." He whispers and she sighs, closing her eyes. "I know you wouldn't Gilligan." He shifts beside her and when she opens her eyes, he's leaning over her and her breath hitches in her throat. He can't take it any longer, can't wait any longer; and before he even realizes what he's doing, his lips are already crashing onto hers.

**5. ****Hostage**

Tears stream down her face and pool under the dirty fingers clamped over her mouth. Her screams muffled, she cannot cry out, cannot _warn him_ though she kicks and claws and scratches and oh how she tries to break free! The Head-Hunter holding her captive is easily twice her size and just shifts, tightens his grip as his companion sneaks closer towards her ignorant friend. His back is turned to her, his red shirt bright in the afternoon sun. He's looking for her. Calling her name, pistol lodged in his belt. They know she's missing, has been since this morning. Maybe they even know who took her, but none of it matters now, because the Head-Hunter is closing in on him, crudely sharpened, stone dagger raised ready to strike.

Her captor shifts again and she bites down hard on his fingers. Her jumps, releases her mouth with a shout and, "_Gilligan, turn around!"_

She's thankful then more than ever that Gilligan's nature is to shoot first and ask questions later, because he turns, pistol raised and fires. The Head-Hunter falls and her captor, having never seen such a weapon before in his life, slackens his grip in fear. Gilligan spots them amongst the underbrush and after the initial look of surprise, comes an expression she's never seen on him before. An expression of cold determination and anger and something else she can't name. Not directed at her, but her captor who, even facing a man as small as Gilligan, stiffens as the foreign weapon is leveled at him. "Let her go." Gilligan's voice has never sounded so cold before and she shivers, her fingers clenching around the arm around her collar. The Head-Hunter doesn't move and Gilligan cocks the gun, and she wonders if he shoots, will he hit her instead? As clumsy as he is? But he did manage to shoot the other one.

Finally, after what seems like years, the Head-Hunters grip slackens and he releases her. She drops to her knees, brings her hands up to her throat and chokes as she tries to steady her shaking, suck air into her lungs and not break down into a sobbing mess. She hears the crashing of underbrush behind her and knows her captor is running for his life. Something, fear, tightens in her belly. He'll tell others about the death of his tribesman, more will come. They have to stop him! But it's too late, he's gone now.

Something lands in front of her and she looks up and sees Gilligan. Without a thought she throws her arms around his neck, buries her face into his collar and cries.

He drops the pistol and clings to her just as fervently.

**6. ****Dance**

www .youtube. com / watch?v=N2cEPvyNHaA_(Because Jamie Bell looks like a cute little blond Gilligan in this movie and it was so easy to imagine that it was him. Please Watch!)_

Ginger taught her to Hula, so Gilligan sets it in his mind to teach her the Jitterbug. She laughs as he twirls her out, then back in again, stumbling slightly off step. "Careful, now." He tells her with a laugh of his own. He's surprisingly good, and an even greater teacher. He's yet to lose his temper with her even though she trips over every other step he's tried to teach her. She's beginning to realize how much she goes out of her way to get his attention, and how often he seems to give it to her.

Jim Dandy blasts from the radio at the edge of the stage they'd built for Ginger's performances.

"Now, just hold your leg out like this and, _shake it!_" He demonstrates and she dissolves into a fit of giggles. "Gilligan, that's absurd!"

"That's the Jitterbug."

She copies him anyway and soon, they have a nice little thing going, not perfect yet for sure but it's growing into…something. Suddenly, his hands grasp at her waist and he lifts her, swinging her up then bends as her legs shoot out on either side of his hips and back on her feet again. Her pulse pounds, adrenaline courses through her veins and she can't get enough of it all. He swings her out beside him and they go to swinging their legs out in a kicking motion, bend at the waist, snap back up, their hands raised in a mock salute and she laughs again. She snatches the hat off his head as he circles her, hands up pinching the font of his shirt, and plops it onto her own head as she does a little jig of her own. She doesn't even think what they're doing classifies as any type of dance anymore, they're just having fun.

He clasps her hands in his and swings them in a circle until she's breathless and flushes and smiling like there's no tomorrow. He finishes by picking her up, swings her around as she holds her hands high above her head in childish glee. Kisses her cheek sweetly as he sets her on her feet again and she sets his hat lopsidedly back on his head. It's only then that they hear the clapping. They turn, find that the whole group is there, watching. A blush rises to her face and she pats at her cheeks with her hands.

Her soft hand carefully takes hold as her fingers intertwine with his own, testing boundaries at making such a public gesture in front of everyone, but instead of pulling away all he can do is smile at her.

**7. ****Gift**

"Close your eyes." He says and she does. She feels something touch her hair, slide down and settle around her neck. His fingers linger against her collar for a moment before they're gone again. "Okay, now you can open them."

She opens her eyes and gasps. It's a necklace, beaded with beautiful ivory shells and three perfect little pearls; one, the one in the middle, is pink. She chokes back tears and nods vigorously when he asks if she likes his present. "Oh, Gilligan, it's beautiful!"

"It suits you then." He goes back to being bashful, eyes averted, left toe nudging slightly at the right, hand buried deep in his pockets. She grins, places her hands against his face and pulls him down for a well-deserved kiss. The best part about this present is he lets her and doesn't hesitate to return the sentiment.

**8. ****Affection**

She tells him to kiss her, but it still surprises her when he suddenly does.

**9. ****Teasing**

He wants her to make him his favorite coconut crème pie with slices of mango thrown in the mix. And because she's feeling playful today, she grins, tugs on the collar of his shirt and smiles as he quirks a brow at her. "Okay, Gilligan, but…"

"But what?" She can hear the whine in his voice, knows he tired, knows the Skipper's been running him extra hard today. And because she knows that he's Gilligan and he needs to have at least a little fun every day, she grins, and backs away slowly. "You'll have to catch me first!" She catches his grin before she pivots on her heel and takes off into the jungle.

**10. ****Game**

She's running. Dodging trees and rocks and vines, she tries to put as much distance between them as she can but he's catching up. She can hear him, closing in, closer. Her breath lodges in her throat, adrenaline courses through her veins, her heart pounds faster, so fast she thinks it'll burst right out of her chest if she doesn't stop soon.

She makes a split second turn around a banana tree, hears him shoot past her, curses as he trips over a vine. There, up ahead, there's a large boulder, large enough for her to hide behind. She ducks down behind it, hears him catch up, watches him pause, breathing heavily. He's lost her, she thinks gleefully. He scratches his head, bends to place his hands on his knees to catch his breath, then he's gone again, jogging off into the underbrush.

She waits, slowly emerges from her hiding spot. With a gleeful squeal, she claps her hands and does a little dance in victory. 'I win.' She thinks, pressing her fingertips to her lips. Of course, she'll make him the pie anyway. She just wants him to relax after a long day of work. After all, all work and no play makes for a very Grumpy Gilligan.

She giggles to herself, then screams in fright as two arms circle around her waist, pulls her back and up against the rock. "Gilligan!"

"Gotcha!" He smiles that boyish smile and she pouts at her loss. "That's not fair, you cheated." She says, though knows it's entirely untrue. He chuckles, presses his forehead to hers and she can't help but smile at the happiness shown in those crystal blue eyes. "I think you're just a sore loser, Mary Ann."

She concedes with a grin and she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him closer. "Hmm, maybe."

"So, about my prize…"

"Alright, I'll go make your pie, now."

"Actually…" He says with no small amount of cockiness. "I think I should get _two_ prizes because _you_ cheated!" Her mouth drops open affronted. "Wha, I never…" He holds a slender finger to her lips that makes her insides twist wonderfully.

"_You_ said I had to catch you, you didn't say anything about hide and go seek."

She sighs. "You're right, I didn't. Very well, what'll it be then? Two pies? You want me to go exploring tomorrow? Although, you'll have to take that up with Ginger, after all it _is _my turn to do the laundry tomorrow and…"

The sudden and very impromptu kiss silences her completely and her mind goes blank.

**11. ****Love**

Quite suddenly she's forgotten whatever she'd been talking about to begin with and as his fingers trace a path down her arms leaving goosebumps in their wake, she finds she doesn't care. None of it matters anymore because he's pressing her into the rock and though it should hurt, it doesn't. In fact, if it weren't for that blessed rock, Mary Ann knows she wouldn't have the strength to stand. Her hands tangle in his hair, knocking the white cap off his head. His tongue flicks delicately at her lips and she smiles into the kiss, deepens it, savors it. His hands smooth down her sides, over her hips, across the expanse of her back.

She sighs his name into his lips and he moves to her cheek, her ear, her neck. He's surprisingly gentle, it makes her wish this could last forever; but that only reminds her that it probably won't, so she jumps into the moment while it's still there. She clings to him for dear life, afraid that he'll snap out of the fever he's induced with and run away again. She desperately hopes not.

She slides her hands down his arms, stops at his waist, hesitantly inches beneath the red shirt. Waits for him to snap to attention, drop her where she stands and take off sprinting into the jungle. Wants to cry and laugh at the same time when he gives and impatient little growl and reaches over his head to grasp the shirt from behind, pulls it up and off and away somewhere behind him.

"Gilligan." She sighs and his answering moan almost deters her completely but she has to make sure. "Gilligan." She steadies her voice but it's hard as he continues his ministrations to her collar. "Gilligan!"

He snaps to and she fights the grin at his disheveled hair, and bruised mouth and clouded eyes. Suddenly, those eyes grow fearful and she bites her lip. "Oh, Mary Ann…I…Oh, gosh…I'm so sorry!" He turns away but the second before he can let her go and run away and ruin everything, she catches his face in her hands and looks at him, really looks at him. His eyes are clear, if not a little darker than before. And like she knows she won't, Mary Ann finds nothing in them that would even hint at dishonorable intent. But, she has to be absolutely sure.

"Gilligan, I…" she pauses, afraid. There's only two ways this could turn out. "I just wanted to say…I love you…" She finishes tentatively.

Mary Ann holds her breath. Watches the emotions flit across his face, from shock to nervous to thoughtful. It isn't until a broad, bone cracking grin stretches across his face that she allows herself to relax. His hand slides into her hair, cups the back of her head and he presses his forehead to hers. She closes her eyes and lets out a heavy breath through her nose as he whispers his reply, 'I love you too, Mary Ann. Didn't you know that?' A watery laugh bubbles out of her throat and she kisses him hard.

His hands reach down, grab her legs, and lift her up. She wraps them around his waist, presses warm kisses to the bump in his throat. He turns, trips on his shoelace and they fall into a bed of moss and vines and flowers. She laughs at his clumsy ways, lets him press her into the soft undergrowth, takes his face in her hands.

In the afterglow of love, what once was so terrifying, it seems all they both want to do is lay there tangled in each other, content; feeling like they have all the time in the world.

**12. **** Swim**

She surfaces with a small splash and wraps her arms around his shoulders as he surfaces after her. Almost unconsciously, his head dips to presses warm lips to her shoulder, slow, soothing. His hands are cool against her skin, sparking a tremble along her spine as his hand, with a gentle smooth touch, caresses along her back, circling each vertebra. She's good to him, better than anyone has ever been to him and he loves her for it. It's hot today, the kind of heat which can only be relieved by swimming in the lagoon. Yet even chest deep in the lagoon he can't escape it and this thought brings a smile to his lips. Gilligan breathes a heavy sigh through his nose and pulls her up so he can rest his head under her chin. He clasps his hands under her as she wraps her legs around his stomach and for a while they just float there; relishing this lazy afternoon while they can.

Her fingers play with his hair, twisting the strands back and forth in her grip. Its soothing and he starts to feel drowsy. He'd give anything for a nap but doesn't want to leave her just yet. Thinks about building them their own separate hut just so he won't have to. Thinks of other, better reasons he should do this and his grip tightens slightly.

"Mary Ann, if I asked you extra nicely, would you move in with me?" He mumbles into her collar. She giggles. "With you and…Skipper? Honey, you can't be serious!"

He snorts. "No! I mean, I…Well I've been thinking about building my own hut lately and…" She kisses the top of his head. "Of course I will." She grins. She wonders when he'll ask her. She hasn't been hinting around at it, but others have, Ginger especially. But she doesn't want to push him. Wants to know it's what he wants.

She knows she'd wait forever for him if that was what it would take.

13. **Fearless**

She stands at the precipice. Rocks crumble at her feet, disappear down the mountainside. The Head-Hunter beckons her away from the edge, but she's not looking at him, she's looking at Gilligan. He has that look in his eyes again. A look haunted by times past; memories of war, and danger and fear. He's afraid, and at the same time not. The Head-Hunter presses his blade closer against his skin, tilting his head at an odd angle. She chokes on gasp, resists the urge to run to him.

'_Run.'_

She can read it in his expression, in his eyes. She shakes her head. She won't leave him. _She can't!_

'_I'll be fine, now go!'_

Her hair whips her face as she shakes it again, tears prickling at her eyes. She turns to the Head-Hunter. "Please, _please_ let him go. Take me instead!"

_"Mary Ann!" _

She ignores him. _"Please."_ She whispers through her tears. To her horror, Gilligan wrenches his arm free, slams his elbow back into the nose of his captor and drops his foot back into his shin. The man falls.

Gilligan grabs for his pistol but an arrow imbeds into his shoulder before he can fire. _"No!"_ She screeches as he stumbles and falls over the cliffside. _"Gilligan!"_

The river below catches him, sweeps him away. She has to get to him, she has to save him! Shaking, she turns back to the Head-Hunters. Tears escape and slide down her cheeks though her face remains blank. In that moment, she hates them. She hates this place, _hates this island!_ The wind blows strands of hair against her face, calms her. She sees the Skipper and the Professor emerge from the brush behind, pistols drawn. _'You're too late.'_

Ginger follows, silently beckoning her away from the edge, like _he_ did. She can't, _she won't._

Mary Ann turns, steps off the edge and plunges into the depths below. Ginger screams, she hears shots above her and then nothing. The water engulfs her, drags her under. She fights it, looks for Gilligan.

He's there, clinging to a log up ahead.

Just as he's about to go under, she grabs him and pulls him to safety.

**14. **** Healing**

He's still stuck in a clouded haze of pain, but it's her startling vision that catches him off track, her gentle movements as she works almost dream like to help heal his wounds, her soft motions making him lose track from the times when he is awake and when he is asleep.

**15. ****Scars**

There's a star shaped blemish on his right shoulder, just below his collar bone. And as much as she tries, she just can't kiss it away. It haunts her how he came to have that scar. Will forever be a black stain upon her memory. She bears scars too, but hers are invisible whereas his is a screaming accusation for the foolishness of which she can never forgive herself.

**16. **** Naked**

She has never really been comfortable about being naked in front of someone before, but with him it's different, because even when she's standing plain in the nude as embarrassed as could be; he's still staring at her face as their eyes meet and he silently waits for her to give permission for him to look at her, and it warms her, so when she finally gets over herself and does let him look, it's one of the moments in her life where she has never felt so beautiful.

**17. **** Distraught**

She's wringing her hands at the table, thinking hard about something. Ginger is there with her, talking in hushed tones and glancing furtively back at him and the Skipper as they thatch the roof of their soon-to-be-finished home. Idly, he wonders what could be troubling her, but knows it's probably nothing. Chalks it up to her time of the month because she hasn't talked to him hardly at all for the past three days. She gets like that sometimes, and then she comes back and makes up for the time lost. The thought makes him grin and he turns back to his work. Doing so, he doesn't catch the worried glance she throws him or the tears prickling her eyes as she stands and leaves, hand clasped tightly over her lips to muffle her sobs. Nor does he see Ginger chase after her in silence.

**18. **** Confession**

Suddenly, he can't breathe and she's sitting there in front of him, face buried in her hands as she cries helplessly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Gilligan!" Finally, her words seem to break the barrier that has erected around his mind and he snaps to attention. Sorry? What in the world has she to be sorry about? But as her hands slide up into her hair and she looks at him with an expression of such desperation he can't help but take her into his arms and kiss the top of her head. And even as she cries into his shoulder, he suddenly can't fight the grin that's spreading across his face.

**19. **** Daddy**

He doesn't tell her anything when she asks him about why he keeps staring at her belly, even though it has her worrying about her weight no matter how many times he tells her it has nothing to do with that; he's just honestly happy to know that when he laid his head against her and curled his limbs around her, he felt a tiny little bump against his cheek. A little message that says, 'hi Daddy.'

**20. **** Happy**

She is always with him, so close to him, practically a part of him, a part of him that he doesn't know if he could live without; and then there's this baby boy, so new to the world, so innocent and unknowing of pain, this precious proof of them laying in his arms, and he can't think of a moment where he's ever felt so happy.


	2. Chapter 2

_This part kinda jumps around a bit but I'll try to make it as easy to understand as possible. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!  
_

PART 2

_(Takes place before 4. Beautiful in chapter 1 and following 'Diogenes, Won't You Please Go Home?' Sorry, but I only just thought of it after watching the episode.)_  
**Diary** – Naturally, when she'd found the diary washed up on the beach of the lagoon, she flipped to the pages he'd written about her. Beautiful, he'd called her. One of the sweetest girls he'd ever met, with cooking that could rival that of his mother's. Of all the people on the island, he admires her most (next to the Skipper of course); she's his friend, the girl who didn't laugh when he said he liked to hunt butterflies or watch birds. The girl who does such trivial things with him, who makes him pies just to make him fill better when he goofs up, who make his insides turn to mush when she kisses him, who makes him nervous when she smiles. And though the lines are blurred from the water, she makes out the words that make her smile and her heart beat a little faster. The girl who, if he ever had a wife, he'd want to be like. Though, these lines are scratched out, as if he himself was too embarrassed to write them. She closes the diary with a smile and hugs it to her chest, then with a little sigh, takes it back to the others to end this foolish grudge against the poor boy.

* * *

He's poking the fire as the others return to their beds. She pauses, let's Ginger continue without her and turns back. Brings her thumb to her lip and bites the tip in decision. Slowly, she strides back. "Gilligan?"

He straightens and turns to her. "Yeah, Mary Ann?" His eyes stay locked on her face, despite her scantily clad form, and this makes her smile. "Close your eyes." She says.

"What for?"

"It's a surprise, silly." She giggles. He grins and folds his hands behind his back, feet spread apart and straightens. Those beautiful blue orbs disappear and she gathers her courage a little better now that they're not watching her with that boyish charm. "Now, don't move."

"Ok, Mary Ann, just don't put bugs down my shirt or nothing." He mutters. She giggles again and steps a little closer. He stiffens as she takes his face in her hands and pulls him down a little. "No peeking." She says as his eyelids flutter and he gives a little frustrated sigh through his nose. Carefully, so as not to scare him, she brushes her nose to his, then gently presses a kiss to his lips. And as she knew they would, his eyes instantly snap open and cross to try and look at her. Un-bidding, she smiles into the kiss, fighting a laugh. He's so predictable. But then, as she gently slides her hands up past his ears and into his hair, his eyes close of their own accord and she barely, so softly she thinks she might have imagined it, feels him tilt his chins slightly and return the pressure. But then it's gone and she pulls away with a sigh.

He keeps his eyes closed for a second, clearing his throat and collecting himself. He opens them, and his voice squeaks adorably when he first speaks. "What…ahem…what was that for?" She reaches up and pauses as he jumps, like coaxing a scared rabbit out of its hole, and straitens his hat where she'd dislodged it. "That? That was for…just being you, Gilligan. For being so…amazing." He gives her a shy little grin and scratches his cheek. "Heh, then thanks."

She pats his cheek fondly as she turns to go. "Anytime." This makes him blush and she giggles again. As he turns, she spies the little red book in his back pocket. She can't contain the laugh that bubbles up from her lips as he jumps around, staring at her bug-eyed as she waves it at him. "Found your diary." She whispers. He takes it from her with a nervous chuckle. "uh, thanks again, I think."

She turns to go, tucking her hair back behind her ear and touches her lips with a dreamy little grin. "Hey, Mary Ann?" He calls and she turns. He smiles. "How do you spell amazing?"

"A-M-A" she tells him only to laugh as he mouths the letters along with her. "Goodnight, Gilligan."

"Goodnight, Mary Ann."

**Attention** - She plays it sweet - a hand on his arm, a small smile to relax him, eyelashes batting like no one's business. Poor boy doesn't know what's hit him, but she's more than pleased with his reaction, and when he blushes at the way she runs her hand down his arm, she knows she'll have no problem getting what she wants.

**Quirks** - This he knows: she hums when she dances, sews, or bathes; she always eats the fruit slices off the pie first before she eats the actual pie; she hates the way lobster looks but loves the taste of it, she only wears her perfume on her wrists and at the corners of her jaw; she twirls her fingers in her hair when she's nervous; she rarely gets nervous; she's right-handed but can still use her left hand; she hates it when she cries in front of him; she gets a sleepy look in her eyes when she thinks about her mom; she thinks he doesn't know anything about her.

**Ugly - **She has to sew two of her dresses together to make it fit now that her belly is the size of a barn. She's constantly looking at herself in the mirror, sometimes she frowns, sometimes she smiles. She's worried he thinks she's ugly now that's she's so big but he's never thought she's looked more beautiful.

**Touch** - He's not used to the looks she sometimes gives him. The way she's happy to simply hold his hand, sit in silence, be in his presence.

**Quirks 2 – **He's allergic to pineapples, but if she bakes it in a pie, he'll eat it anyway, even if she says it wouldn't hurt her feelings if he didn't; He's a great dancer but can't hold a tune in a bucket with a lid on it; He hunches his shoulders when he's deep in thought and crosses his arms and legs when he sleeps. He sometimes stands 'at-ease', hands clasped behind his back, feet shoulder width apart as if he's regressing back to his days in the navy; He rarely talks about his days in the navy; He likes coconut pie but prefers banana; he fidgets when he's nervous and swings his arms when he walks; she loves every part of him.

**Quiet** - Her gentle breathing in the night keeps him sane. Even when the past catches up to him, and he dreams of war and fighter planes and bombs dropping around him, of his friends and comrades dying, of killing others just so _he_ can survive. Having someone next to him - having _her _next to him - makes everything about the dead of night okay. Even when she's not awake, the inky color of her eyelashes against her smooth cheeks is enough to make him breathe steadily, the soft in-and-out as she dreams next to him is enough to relax him for sleep, and the velvety feel of her body burrowing against his is enough make him sleep peacefully.

_(Follows episode 'Quick, Before it Sinks!' Same timeline as 'Diary'.)  
_**Helping – **He's muttering to himself as he tosses the green fronds back into the bushes. She can only imagine the illustrious sailor inspired words that must be coming out of his mouth right now, if the few she's catching from this distance are any indication. She's never even heard of some of them, let alone knows what they mean. He picks up a bamboo pole as thick around as his arm and with an impressive show of strength, tosses it into the dense foliage. She sighs and pushes away from the tree she's leaning against and silently makes her way towards him. Ignores the cursing and picks through debris. "Well," she calls out, silencing his tirade. He whips around in surprise and drops a handful of vines. "Mary Ann!"

"You've certainly caused an uproar this time, haven't you Gilligan?" She pauses, winks at him playfully. "Lovely vocabulary by the way."

He blushes and rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Sorry, I didn't know you were…say, what are you doing out here so late?"

She bends down and takes a generous portion of jungle debris in her arms. "Helping you of course. You can't expect to get all this cleaned up before morning. Even you need to sleep, Gilligan." By the time she tosses them away, he's made it across the wreckage next to her. "No, Mary Ann. It was my fault, I should…"

"Gilligan." She places a hand over his chest and pushes him back slightly when he tries to stop her. "Let me help." After a minute he sighs and gives her a weary grin. "Alright, but leave the heavy stuff to me. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

She smiles. "Of course." She doesn't argue that back on the farm she could lift a calf and carry it from the pasture to the stables as easily as she could a bucket of water. Doesn't insist that she's used to her fair share of hard labor. Doesn't need to prove herself to him. He knows she's strong, it's just in his nature to worry about her. He is and forever will be the perfect gentleman. So instead of quibbling about it she sets in to finishing the work set out for her before sunrise.

And indeed they do finish before sunrise, but only barely. It's just cresting the horizon when they make it back to camp, bone tired, dirty and disheveled. But despite how tired he is, he walks her to her hut anyway, seeing her safely to the door as the receding shadows of night creep back into the jungle. "Mary Ann." He whispers, stopping her before she can open the door to her hut and slip inside. She yawns, turns back rubbing her eyes. "Hmm?" she hums. He says nothing, fidgets and looks everywhere but at her.

Irritated she crosses her arms. "Gilligan, I'm very sleepy. What is it?"

Finally he meets her eyes. "Close your eyes." A little grin tilts the corner of her mouth and without hesitation she does. She tilts her chin up but only feels his breath on her cheek. Suddenly, her heart is doing jumping jacks in her chest. His lips brush her cheek in a feather light touch before his warm breath ghosts over her ear. "Thank you for helping me." If it weren't for his hands fidgeting like mad against her stomach, she'd think he was actually trying to be romantic. He starts to pull away and she catches his chin in her fingers, brushes her lips over his in the same feather light touch that had sent her knees to quivering and watches in satisfaction as he stiffens and his hands freeze. She flicks her nose playfully against his and pats his cheek. "You're welcome." And with that she turns and goes inside. Snuggling into her bed, she hears him stumbling away from their hut, sailor's mouth just a singing as he presumably trips over something on his way. Mary Ann yawns, then giggles and then settles in for a couple of hours of sleep before she starts the day. In the haze between wakefulness and sleep, she thinks she'll make him a pie when she gets up.

**Hero – **He hears her screams inside their hut and it's like a knife twisting in his gut. He wants to be in there with her, and he was for a while. But then, something happened. Something in the Professor's expression changed and he was ushered out and Mrs. Howell and Ginger ushered in. The Skipper squeezes his shoulder and Mr. Howell offers him a drink from his precious supply of brandy. It burns his throat but he barely feels it. She screams so loud and desperate this time that Skipper has to hold him back as he tries to barge inside the small hut and though he struggles, the other man is stronger. Then, everything is quite, too quiet.

They all release a breath they hadn't even known they were holding at the shrieking cry of the baby. Ginger comes out of the hut, the little bundle wrapped in the white blanket Mary Ann had made. Gently, she places the baby in his arms and his breath clogs his throat. He's so tiny, red faced with a tuft of black hair barely covering his little head. He' s not even crying anymore, as if he already knows who's holding him and when those little blue eyes open and look at him, Gilligan releases a watery laugh and the Skipper claps him on the back. "He looks just like my little buddy!"

The excitement is ruined as the Professor come out of the hut, wipes bloody hands on a towel and beckons Gilligan towards him. "It wasn't an easy delivery." He says. "She's lost a lot of blood, she's going into shock. I'll need to do a transfusion…"

"Then give her mine! Where do I go, tell me what to do, Professor!"

But it's quite impossible, their blood doesn't match. But, to his immense relief, the Skipper's does. He thought he loved the man before, but as the process is finished and his captain and the professor come out of the hut both with tired smiles, nothing stops Gilligan from giving the captain the biggest, most grateful hug of his life. The man is and forever will be his hero.

**Namesake - **He takes Mary Ann her breakfast first before sitting down for his own. He's still worried about her, but the Professor assures him that after a week or two of bed rest, she'll be back on her feet and good as new in no time. Still, all this stress is bogging him down. What with the scare of the delivery and with the baby crying at all hours of the night, Gilligan's barely had time to think, let alone sleep. Skipper, bless him, sets a plate full of turtle eggs, fruit and fried fish down in front of him and he eagerly digs in. It feels like he hasn't eaten in years.

"How's Mary Ann?" Ginger asks. Gilligan swallows, pauses, wants desperately to continue eating before he goes back to bed for a few hours. "She and the baby are sleeping." Then, with that settled, he digs back into his breakfast. Then, of course… "Have you thought of a name yet?" Mrs. Howell asks.

"Yes, the boy needs a name son!" Mr. Howell barks. "We certainly can't go around calling him Gilligan's boy the rest of his life."

Gilligan himself sees no problem with this but concedes to their curiosity anyway. "Well, actually we decided to call him Daniel after her father and I picked Skipper as his middle name on account of he saved Mary Ann's life and he's kinda like my own father and everything." He goes to take another bite of his eggs, unaware of the quiet that has settled over the table. "Gosh, these are good, did you cook these, Skipper?"

The man is silent and Gilligan looks over, thinking maybe he hadn't heard him. "Skipper?"

He's never in his life seen the captain cry. Never. He's been in so many fights he's lost count. Fights with his enemies, fights with his friends, fights with strangers in the street. His injuries have included black eyes, split lips, cracked ribs, bruised knuckles, a knife to the side, a shot in the leg and who knows what else. He's got a strong stomach; the blood, bruises, and breaks have never been a problem before. But looking at him now, Gilligan sees fresh tears prickling the corners of the older man's eyes, and when he realizes he's looking, turns away and wipes at them furiously. "Skipper! What's wrong? Did you bite your tongue?"

Skipper laughs, bats the boy away as he tries to help him with an injury that isn't there. He wraps a thick, meaty arm around his shoulders and hugs him tight, practically pulls him out of his seat. "Little Buddy," he says with that crooked smile, then pauses, chokes as he turns away. The occupants of the table smile at the touching scene. "That's a fine name, son. A real fine name. I know I don't say it much but I'm proud of you."

Gilligan grins, something warm constricts in his chest. It's the first time the Skipper's ever called him son.

**Baby – **Theirs is the first born on the island, and being the only one some have seen in years, the most popular. Which is why he can't seem to keep his hands on him for more than two minutes. He's passed around from person to person like a little china doll. Fawned over, petted and loved more than he would bet any child in history has been. Only a week old and already he's richer than his parents, has a large, cushy, bamboo cradle, the latest fashion in jungle baby clothes, and a stuffed bear.

"Oh, Thurston, isn't he just darling!"

"Yes, well he certainly doesn't take after his father on that does he?" Mr. Howell laughs rapping Gilligan on the shoulder with his bamboo walking stick making the poor boy flinch and sheepishly rubs the spot with a little smile. "Oh, leave him alone. I think he looks a lot like Gilligan. Look here, see? He has his eyes." Ginger placates, smoothing her fingertip against the baby's downy cheek. "Hi, sweetie." She whispers.

Yes, they're all just infatuated by the newest member of their little rag-tag group. And when it's time to take him back to Mary Ann, who's still bedridden for at least the next few days, she welcomes them with open arms. He snuggles in next to her as she puts their son to her breast, listens as she coos and goo's over him, kisses his tiny head, smooth's her fingers over the pudgy cheeks. He may have his eyes, but he has Mary Ann's nose.

**Spoiled** - Her eyes are closed, arms resting behind her head, and a soft humming noise coming from her mouth. As they lie in their bed, he slowly - so slowly he hopes she won't notice - unbuttons her blouse. A small smile spreads over her lips and he knows she knows. With a sneaky grin, he opens the lapels and slips his hand beneath one, finding her skin surprisingly warm. And as he presses a kiss between her ribs, a soft little cry echoes at the foot of the bed and he sighs, sags against her as she laughs. "Sure is greedy, isn't he?" He mumbles. She hums, runs her fingers through his hair and plants a kiss to the top of his head. "Funny, I bet he would say the same think about you."

He pouts as he scoots to the end of the bed, scoops his young son up and scoots back. But as he starts to hand him over to his mother, he starts to fuss again. "I think he wants you." She whispers, propping her chin in her hand so she can watch them. Gilligan smiles, lies back to lay the baby flat on his chest. "Well, then, I take back what I said. You're not greedy, you're spoiled." He whispers fondly, poking his little nose. Danny only turns his head to the side, chews on his fist and goes back to sleep, lulled by the rhythm of his father's breathing. Long fingers stroke the downy black hair and Mary Ann giggles. "Funny, I bet…" Gilligan groans and hooks a hand behind her head to pull her down into a kiss.

**Home – **He misses her. There's so little time for them anymore, what with her taking care of Danny and the house and the laundry and the cooking and with him kept busy working with the Skipper and the Professor all day. Most days, by the time it's all over and done with, they're both ready to fall into bed and instantly to sleep. But some nights, like tonight, he manages to scrape by and make it back a little earlier. She lays Danny in his crib, covers him with the blanket and before she can even make it to the bed, he's scooped her up in his arms. She squeals with delight, kisses him like she hasn't seen him in years. And it's only when he's under the blankets, warm and tangled in her arms that he truly feels at home.

**Fire** - His touch is like flames licking at her skin. Tendrils flicking their way up her bare back, stinging her ribs, and blazing into every inch of skin he can get his hands on. It burns and aches and it leaves her breathless - it makes her crazy … and she loves every second of it.

**Jealous – **He's whittling a little toy for Danny out of a hunk of wood when Ginger walks up. She's swaying her hips in that sultry way and her lips are puckers and her eyes are hooded and Gilligan knows she wants something instantly, but that doesn't stop the nervous anxiety from damn near choking him as she perches on the log beside him. "Hello, Gilligan." She purrs. The Skipper, who's whittling a pipe beside him clears his throat at her, but she ignores whatever he's trying to tell her.

"Hi, Ginger." He chirps, blowing some dust off the toy. She places a hand on his shoulder and he stiffens, wanting to push her away but not wanting to hurt her feelings. So he shrugs instead, but this only makes her hand slide down his arm. "Gilligan, I have a nasty hole in my roof that needs patching and I was wonder if you could…" Her fingers brush the hair by his ear and he shrugs again. "Sure, Ginger, I'll take a look at it." He smiles at her, if only to make her stop. She grins. "Oh, thank you Gilligan." She kisses her finger, and just as he's ready to crack his skull on the nearest post to get away from her, he hears a sharp bark behind him. "Gilligan!"

His head whips around, finds Mary Ann stalking towards them, Danny perched on her hip. "Yeah?"

She sets their son in his arms as her eyes stay rooted on her friend. "Hold Danny for a sec while I have a little…chat, with Ginger." With that, she takes the bewildered woman by the arm and all but drags her off into the distance. Gilligan watches them go, shrugs and smiles at his son. Skipper whistles lowly.

"I think Mommy might be having one of her mad days, Danny." He chuckles. The baby hooks his hands around his father's fingers and with his little feet planted firmly on the ground, commenced to bouncing excitedly. Skipper laughs, blows dust off his pipe and sticks it between his teeth. "Little Buddy, I hope Danny doesn't grow up to be as naive as you."

Gilligan only glares at him.

**Funny – **They're all gathered at the table, going over a shortage in supplies when he comes running up, Danny bouncing happily in his arms. "Hey, everyone. Watch this." Gilligan says as he set's Danny in Mary Ann's lap. With a smile he steps back, hands held at the ready. For a moment, Danny just sits in his mother's lap chewing on his fist. "Danny!" Gilligan says, drawing the baby's attention. Then, he starts doing the most ridiculous dance any of them have ever seen. He shakes his arms wildly above his head, gyrates his hips in a way that would make even Elvis jealous, and stomps his feet like a monkey. Before any of them can question this odd behavior, Danny throws his little head back and begins laughing hysterically, scaring Mary Ann who has to tighten her grip to keep from dropping him.

**Play – **"You better run, I'm gonna get you!" Gilligan teases, setting aside some vines he'd been braiding into a rope. He lunges after his son, and Danny lets out a squeal of delight as he toddles away as fast as his little legs will carry him. He hides behind Skipper's leg, who having just exited his hut, has to sidestep to keep from tripping over the boy. Danny grips onto his pants leg and cautiously peeks his head out, a broad grin stretched across his thin face. Gilligan smiles as he stops a few feet away from them and pretends to scratch his head in thought. "Hey, Skipper? Have you seen Danny? I can't find him."

Skipper crosses his arms and turns back to wink at the baby. "Sorry, Little Buddy, haven't seen him all day."

"Danny!" He makes a show of calling for him, sometimes catching the boy's eye as he peeks out then with a giggle hides again. He steps around his captain and makes a grab for him. "Got…" Danny squeals and takes off again leaving Gilligan dumbstruck. "You?"

Skipper chuckles. "He's even faster that you are."

"That's what he thinks." Gilligan takes off at a jog after him. But Danny's just a spry and limber as his father and Gilligan's tripping over everything and everyone just to get to him. Finally, he turns, crosses just a hair's breadth too close to the other man's legs and Gilligan scoops him up with a playful growl. "Hah, gotcha now, you little monkey!" He holds him up, him high over his head as he spins him around. Danny puts out his little arms and his sounds of glee can be heard clear across the camp.

He lays his head on his father's shoulder as Gilligan holds him close to his chest, rubbing his back and kisses his cheek. "My little Skipper." He says fondly as Danny tugs at his hair.

**Matrimony – **It's been an issue on everyone's mind since Danny started to crawl. Everyone, that is except Mary Ann herself. He's hassled almost on a daily basis now. Questions arise, demands are made, and hints are thrown in. All wondering when he's going to do right by her, when he's going to stop all this nonsense, settle down and marry the poor girl. They're practically married already, why not make it official? And Gilligan doesn't know why. Doesn't know what's holding him back from asking her. Maybe it's because she _hasn't _said anything, hasn't made any remarks about it. Maybe she doesn't want to? But then he overhears Ginger broach the subject while they're preparing dinner.

"Aren't you worried that he hasn't asked you to marry him yet? The Skipper's a captain, he could perform the ceremony."

Mary Ann blows her bangs away from her face and wipes the sweat away from her cheek with her shoulder. "Gilligan's just…well you know how he is. It took me years just to get him to kiss me back. If it takes a while for him to ask me, then that's fine. We're not going anywhere anytime soon, so really what's the hurry?"

"But what if he never asks you?"

Mary Ann smiles fondly down at Danny playing by her feet. Taking the little wooden boat Gilligan made him, he sticks it in his mouth and looks up at her with those adoring blue eyes. "He will." She says without a hint of doubt. "I'd wait forever for him, if I had to." Ginger gives a romantic little sigh as she stares at her friend. "Mary Ann, that's so sweet. Reminds me of a movie I once appeared in…"

So later on, when he comes home to find her playing with Danny, it comes as no surprise to him the feelings that settle in his stomach. For a while, he just watches her. The sun shines over her hair, dust molecules dancing in the air around them. She's wearing white, a soft cotton dress that she'd made from an old sheet. She bends down, her hair a curtain around her face and blows raspberries on Danny's stomach. He giggles and she holds his hands to keep them from pulling her hair as she rises up again. "Mommy loves you, yes I do. Yes I do!" She laughs, tickling him. She looks up and grins. "Look baby, Daddy's home!"

"Hey." He says, coming to sit on the edge of the bed with them. Danny turns at the sound of his father's voice and squeals happily. Gilligan scoops him up and kisses his pudgy little cheek. "Hey, buddy."

He's unusually quiet as she goes back to playing with their son, scooping him up and pulling him back into her arms as he keeps flipping onto his stomach and crawling away, laughing hysterically. The words burst from his lips before he even realizes it. "Marry me."

She slowly stops laughing and turns to him, sweeping the hair out of face as her smile fades. "What?"

He pauses, wondering if he should take it back. But there's a desperate, hopeful look in her eyes that's praying she heard him right. Gilligan smiles, brushes a strand of hair behind her ear and hooks his fingers behind her neck. "I said…marry me."

She smiles teasingly at him. "A little demanding aren't we?"

He chuckles. "Well, I don't really see the point in asking. You're going to say yes anyway." She leans a little closer, her breath ghosts over his lips as she whispers, "and how do you know that?" He presses his forehead to hers and grins. "Because you love me. So…?"

She kisses him, agonizingly slow. "What do you think?" He pokes her where she's particularly ticklish and nuzzles under her chin as she squirms. "I don't know, you know how slow I am sometimes…"

She laughs and takes his face in her hands as she kisses him, tears gathering in her eyes. "Yes, Gilligan! Yes, I will marry you!"

And because she hadn't meant to say it so loudly, it startles them both when a little cheer erupts outside their hut.

* * *

She has flowers in her hair, the necklace he made her around her neck. The dress is Ginger's but the color and cut suits her so much more. She's not wearing a veil and he's glad for it, he'd rather see her face, shining and beautiful. Danny toddles in front of her, throwing little tropical flowers in her path. He watches him with a smile, until the boy trips, doing a perfect little flip in the sand and lands squarely on his bottom. Mary Ann gasps and quickens her pace as Mr. Howell mutters to him, 'Yup, he's your son alright.'

Gilligan frowns at the man and Danny giggles, clapping his little hands as his mother smiles and picks him up, choosing to walk the rest of the way with him on her hip instead. It's safer this way and makes for such a nicer image. She stops in front of him and after kissing his son's brow, takes and hands him off to Ginger.

The vows are made, the ring - a real diamond set band that he'd earned from Mrs. Howell after building her a new vanity - slipped on her finger, and Gilligan bends to kiss his new bride with a vigor and passion that surprises them all. After, Mary Ann laughs and tosses her bouquet behind her as she pulls him down for another and applause erupts around them.

It's the Professor, surprisingly, who catches the flowers, and sputters helplessly as Ginger gives him a coy wink.

**Spat – **Sometimes they argue, which leads to a fight, which leads to him sleeping outside in the hammock for the night. And sometimes, she wakes him up with a kiss then leads him back to bed to make up before the night is over.


	3. Chapter 3

_A little short that popped into my head. Random and in no way connected to the previous two chapters. **Rated M for lemon!** Enjoy and review!_

* * *

.0.0.0.

It starts with a touch. A little slide of skin against his bare arm that has him stuttering helplessly as she smiles at him and walks away, dress clinging desperately to her hips as she walks. His eyes linger, despite the Skipper calling for him across the clearing. It's only when the man closes the distance between them and thwacks him on the head with his hat that he snaps to attention. "Pay attention!" The older man barks and he manages to mutter out an apology. Then at dinner, she leans lower, closer as she hands him his plate of finely seasoned lobster on a bed of greens. And though it smells absolutely heavenly, it's nothing compared to the light hint of her perfume as it wafts across his nose. He tilts his chin towards her, following as she straightens, walks past him, fingers trailing across his shoulders as she passes.

Nobody's caught on to the little game she's playing, all of them talking animatedly around the table as he grips his utensils with a death grip and shakes his head to dislodge the fog that has suddenly clouded his thoughts. He doesn't miss the secretive little smile that lingers on her lips as she eats, or the coy way she shoots her eyes at him every few minutes. His stomach rolls pleasantly and he keeps his eyes glued to his plate.

She knows how to play and she plays it well. Sometimes, she doesn't interact like this with him for days, confuses him, makes him stew, makes him think on his toes. Then she's back again, touching, teasing, smiling. It's driving him insane, this game of hers. She makes it so that his every thought is of her and when his mind wanders, she comes back to trap it in her grip once more. She's always there and yet he hardly ever sees her.

In the past week alone, he's smashed two fingers, hit his head more times than he can remember, bruised his shin, banged his shoulder, messed up three of the Professor's experiments, destroyed the Skipper's attempt at building a new table and almost shot Mr. Howell. He winces thinking of that last one. He'd been cleaning the rifle when she'd walked by, wearing those short little skin lover's she calls shorts and a tied bikini top. He imagined she was heading to the Lagoon for a swim, but when she'd caught his eye, winked at him and sashayed off with a new bounce in her step, his hand slipped. The man had been sitting at the table, calmly drinking a tall, cool glass of pineapple juice when the glass exploded with a bang, spraying juice all down his face.

His jaw is still sore from where he'd hit him. And he's not allowed to clean the guns anymore, at least, not with anyone around. She stops a little after that. Dabs at his black and blue jawline with a cold cloth as she sighs pitifully. He crosses his arms. Good. She should feel bad, this is all her fault. The little siren.

But then she giggles and his eyes shoot to the corner to watch her, still with a somewhat grumpy expression. "Got a little carried away with cleaning, huh?" His mouth gapes at her, reminiscent of a fish. He practically growls at her, "What! You…"

She presses a light kiss to his jaw, her fingers brushing under his chin, ghost-like. The retort dies in his throat as he stiffens and she pulls away, pressing another feather light kiss to his temple. "Be careful next time, okay?"

He can only nod mutely as she leaves.

That night, to his immense surprise, Mr. Howell comes to his hut to apologize profusely for his actions. But there's something strange about it, he keeps glancing over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to come in and thwack him if he doesn't do it right.

At lunch the next day she presents him with his own, special baked pie. Coconut crème with hunks of various fruits scattered inside. She realizes she forgot the utensils but it smells so good and looks so good that by the time she returns, he's licking the plate clean with a satisfied little grin.

"Gilligan, you ate it all? How could you?"

He blushes sweetly and sets the tin in his lap. "Sorry, Mary Ann. I didn't know you wanted some too, or I'd have saved you a slice." He placates. She crosses her arms, cocks her hips and pushes her lips out in a cute little pout. He gulps, when she gives a little grin. His eyes cross as she leans over him, and though he backs as far away as he can, his back hits a tree and he closes his eyes, his hands fidgeting helplessly in front of him. And…nothing happens.

She giggles. "Gilligan, what are you doing?"

He cracks his eyes open. She's just standing there, watching him curiously. So with a sigh of relief, he relaxes. "Uh, I just thought…um…nothing." He stutters. "Ooohhh…" She breathes in understanding. "You did huh? Gilligan, you cheeky devil." The teasing way she says it makes him blush, makes his insides quiver, makes his legs shake slightly. Then she just…there. Her nose brushes his, her hooded eyes watch his surprised blue ones as she doesn't kiss him. Ho no, far from it. That pert, pink little tongue shoots out, darts over the corner of his mouth, warm and wet and smooth. Pulling away, he sees a little dot of crème disappear between her lips and she gins cat-like at him.

He closes his eyes, his fist clench at his sides and a heavy breath blows through his nose. His heart hammers, his lungs constrict, his stomach flutters as if he's swallowed a thousand butterflies at once.

_No._ He thinks. _No, no, no, NO!_

Then with a disappointed little sigh, she starts to walk away. His eyes shoot open in surprise, drops his head back with a pained groan and it thuds against the tree. _Oh, the hell with it!_ His arm shoots out, yanks her back with a surprised little squeak; crashes his mouth to hers; sighs when she returns it with equal ferocity.

"Your cruel, you know that?" He pants pulling away as she runs her hands beneath his shirt, sends shivers up and down his spine. "No." Kisses his jaw, bites his earlobe. "You're just too damn stubborn."

Lifts her up, feels her legs clamp around his waist, feels her fingers in his hair, buries his own under the smooth cotton of her shirt. No time. Nowhere to go.

He stops, looks desperately around. It's dark, rain clouds litter the sky. No one's around. His foggy mind accepts this, doesn't think further than that as he drops her into the soft sand; reaches back, pulls his suddenly too hot, too confining shirt up and over his head with a little growl of impatience; sends his white hat flying. Too many layers. He tosses it behind him.

Thunder rumbles above them, rain dents the sand in the scarce beginning of a storm around them. His long fingers work diligently at the knots of her own blouse as his hips roll against her; groaning as she rises eagerly to meet him.

Hungry lips find hungry lips and they roll in the sand. Whatever he was hoping for, she knows he's shocked when he finds himself straddled and pinned beneath her. Surprised by her own aggression, but too thrilled by the rush of power to care, she slams him down by his shoulders and ravages his mouth, her fingers clawing at his clothing to reach bare flesh. She jerks the shirt over his head, runs over the smooth planes, through the little patch of soft black hair in the center. Her need rages out of control, and if he's feeling even a fraction of the desire she is, she knows their coupling will be frantic and brief. She doesn't care about that either. She needs him **_now_**.

She rips the zipper of his jeans as he hikes up her skirt. The shirt she's wearing gapes in the front, half hangs off her shoulders and his fingers latch onto her breasts and she rolls against him. The warmth of him, the aching _need _for him only grows with the pulse of him inside her. He arches his back with a throaty groan; fingers dig into her hips as he pulls her closer, harder against him.

She pushes, he pulls; she screams, he gasps, moans, growls! The sounds elicited from him drive her crazy, makes her want him more! They roll again, and hazy eyes alight on the pale muscles rippling beneath the skin of his shoulders, his arms as she leans over her, rolling into her. Sparkling drops of rain decorate his skin, slide over it and she licks them away, the salt of his skin tingling on her tongue. She locks long legs around him, hands grasp at his arms, his hair, his face; drop the sand, clenches fistfuls as the raging heat roars and fights and coils inside, begging for release.

He clenches his teeth, a little muscle in his jaw jumps. "Gilligan!" She breaths into his kiss.

More, tighter, hotter, faster, harder, **_more!_**

"Mary…Ma…Mary A…Ah!" Her name's too long, too hard to get out quick enough! Something snaps, his stomach drops, warmth envelopes him and she gives a satisfying little squeal beneath him. He falls, bracing himself before he crushes her; rolls to the side; tries to catch his breath as she leans over him. She pushes her hair over her head as she smiles at him. Her fingers dance across his collar.

"Well, that was fun." She teases. "I'll have to remember _that_ recipe. It's a keeper for sure."

With chest heaving, he gapes at her, then glares, then laughs. "You've been around Ginger too much." He says, tangling his fingers into her hair. She holds up her hand, the pointer and thumb fingers almost touching as she grins. "Maybe a little."

The rain comes down harder and he sighs. "We should get out of this." She props her chin in her hand and lets out a sad little purr. "Oh, alright."

He grins cheekily and locks and arm around her neck as she tries to pull away. "Luckily, my hidey-cave is just through those trees over there."

She grins. "It is, isn't it?" She kisses his nose. "Give me a head start?"

He buttons his jeans and crosses his arms behind his head teasingly. "You've got until I can feel my legs again, which I might add isn't long as I can already wiggle my toes." She looks down; sure enough the tips of his shoes are tapping away. She grins. Stands and takes off. Before she's even cleared the tree line, he jumps up with a laugh and (after scooping up his shirts and hat) takes off after her.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm gonna put this as complete for now but I might sneak in a few more when the urge suits me. I hope you all enjoyed.**

* * *

**Part 3**

**Father – **His father said to him once: "Willy, find you a woman who can cook!" It had been one of the last conversations he'd had with the man before he left for the Navy. Back when he was young; when his hair was longer and his face thinner; when his eyes were too big and naive. He'd sat beside his father, his mother frying battered fish in the kitchen and he remembered paying more attention to the smell than the man. "She ain't worth a red cent if she can't cook. And son, I know some say, 'oh, well we'll live on love';" His father shook his head, pushed his thick framed glasses up his nose. "Not really. You do that and you'll starve to death!"

Gilligan had laughed. His father always had a way with his words that would make anyone laugh. "Now, she don't have'ta be beautiful…" he went on. "It's hard to find 'em pretty when they can cook like that."

"You must have lucked out with mom, then."

His father had nodded, smiled at the woman bustling in the kitchen. "Yes I did. And if you ever find a woman who has both of those qualities, then you snatch her up! Don't let her get away, 'cause that's a rare find!"

He hadn't thought much of the advice then. He was young and reckless, wanting more for adventure than to settle down. And it isn't until years later, (when he's older and his hair is short and his face is longer and his eyes are smaller and wiser) that the conversation comes back to him.

Sitting at their crudely fashioned bamboo table, chin in hand, sulking because he's botched another rescue attempt; it hits him like a slap in the face. Those words his father said reverberate in his mind as the smell wafts through the air towards him. It's the smell of freshly baked crust, of banana and crème, pineapple and coconut. It's a smell he's come to associate with one person and one alone. And she follows shortly around the corner of his hut. She's not smiling but she's not mad either, she's just relaxed as she sets the pie down on the table, sits across from him and passes him a fork. Then, without a word and only a hint of a smile, takes her own fork and sinks it into the treat.

She does this sometimes; makes him a treat to cheer him up when he does something particularly stupid. It helps and he's grateful for it. But instead of digging in to the pie, he pushes his fork around the crème for a moment, chin still propped in his hand as he takes a minute to look at her.

She's beautiful.

He's known it since he met her but hers is a different type of beauty. It's not the flamboyant, movie star beauty that Ginger possesses, nor is it the sophisticated charm of Mrs. Howell. Hers is a simple beauty. Her skin smooth and tanned from the sun, her eyes big and dark, her hair soft dark curls that sweep over her shoulders like water. Her hands with long and slender fingers, pink nails that glint in the sun as she brings a forkful of pie to her plump, pink lips. A tiny pink tongue that licks away a spot of crème forgotten at the corner of her mouth, which quirks into a grin when she realizes his stare.

He looks away, shoves a forkful of pie into his mouth.

"Is it good?"

He nods jerkily, and focuses on eating. She sighs, puts her fork down and walks around to his side, perches on the bench beside him. He pauses, fork held aloft in the air as she kisses his cheek and rubs his back, her perfume overpowering the smell of her cooking. "Cheer up." She says as she pulls away. "There's always next time."

"Yeah, until I mess that up too." He mutters, his next bite taken just a bit more angrily. She giggles. "And I'll have a pie waiting to cheer you up again." She starts to walk away and he moves before he can catch himself. His hand catches her wrist, halting her and his fork drops to the table. She turns curiously and he stutters helpless for a second. Then his fingers hook into hers as his hand slides down her wrist, hold for a minute then are gone. "Uh, Mary Ann?..." he manages to squeak out. "Do you…? That is, I um…Do you want to go swimming in the lagoon later?"

She deflates a little and he quickly throws in, "just the two of us?" And her smile is back again. "I'd love to." She says, and then she turns and leaves him there. He stares after her, his pulse hammering in his chest because he really hasn't a clue what he's doing. But the same words keep repeating in his head, over and over like a broken record.

_And if you ever find a woman who has both of those qualities, then you snatch her up! Don't let her get away, 'cause that's a rare find!_

**Laundry – **It's her turn to do the laundry and she's alright with that. She likes doing it; it's soothing and sometimes even a little fun. She carries the basket to the lagoon and sets it in sand as she strips off her dress and shoes. Her black bathing suit needs mending, thanks to Gilligan, but she can't find it in herself to be mad at him. A little annoyed, yes, but not mad. So, throwing her dress into the basket with the other clothes, she hopes nobody passes by to see her in her slip. Lifting the basket, she steps into the water, relishing the chill that races up her heated skin and wades out to her self-dubbed: Laundry rocks. It's nothing more than a shallow area of water, bedded with sand and small pebbles and two shallow rocks to set both her and the basket on. It's far enough away from the deeper ends of the pool where the lobsters and crabs and turtles lurk, waiting to pinch at her feet and just deep enough to get the job done.

But she can feel the heat beating down on her neck, feels the sweat starting to cling to her forehead. She sets the basket on one of the rocks and after a deep breath, dives into the water. Seconds pass and she surfaces again, brushing her dark hair away from her face with a sigh. Much better. Thoroughly cooled, she wades back to the rocks and setting the basket beside her, sets to work.

Save for the thunder of the waterfall behind her, the lagoon is too quiet today. Most likely because of the looming clouds in the distance that bring the promise of rain soon to come, but still, she finds it a little unnerving. She suddenly wishes she'd brought the radio with her, but hadn't thought much on it, seeing as she couldn't exactly bring it out to the water with her.

She tries to think of a song to break the silence and several tunes float through her head. One in particular bursts from her lips in a melodious little hum. It's a sad little melody, one she adores. She's a die-hard Elvis fan and the lyrics come as readily to her mind as the water that slips through her fingers.

_Treat me like a fool  
Treat me mean and cruel  
But love me  
Break my faithful heart, tear it all apart  
But love me_

Her song floats out over the water, across the beach and then further into the jungle where her fellow castaway is lounging in a hammock. He's dog tired, the day's work dragging him down and the sound almost lulls him to sleep, but curiosity gets the better of him. He pushes away from the swinging net and meanders towards the lagoon. It's such a pretty sound but not the whispery sort like Ginger's singing. It's soft and lilting, then fierce and crying, passion bleeding into the words as they pour from the singer's very soul. There's only two other women on this island who could sound like that and he highly doubts Mrs. Howell is overly fond of Elvis. Besides, he's heard her sing before and it sounds nothing like this.

He breaks the tree line and sees her there perched on a rock in the shallows of the lagoon. He doesn't want her to see him because surely if she does, she'll stop and he doesn't want that. She very rarely sings out loud and never in front of anyone but he's often caught her at it when she thinks no one's listening. She good, better when she's singing for herself and not trying to impersonate the fiery actress. So he lies on his belly on the low, rocky ledge that peeks over the lagoon, and puts his chin in his hands.

The sun glistens off her wet hair, looking like diamonds in the dark tresses. The thin shift she's wearing clings to her skin, leaving little to the imagination but ever the gentleman, he keeps his eyes locked on her face. Or tries to. His eyes sink lower, trace over her figure, committing every smooth curve and soft line to memory. Watches as she slaps the clothes against the water, scrubs them against the pebbles, rinses, and rings them out before inspecting her handiwork. Once satisfied that the article of clothing she's working on is clean, she tosses it next to her on the rock and reaches for another. She grabs his red shirt and starts to slap it against the water.

_I would beg and steal  
Just to feel your heart  
Beatin' close to mine  
Well, if you ever go,  
Darling, I'll be oh so lonely  
I'll be sad and blue,  
Crying over you, dear only…_

His head slumps in his hand as sleep finally begins to drag him down. Way down. His hands slip out from under his chin, the sand slides under him as he leans too close to the edge and the fragile ledge rocks give way. His eyes shoot open and he releases a shout as he falls face first into the deep end of the lagoon. The sound draws her attention and she turns with a screech of her own. As he surfaces, coughing and sputtering and pushing his hat out of his eyes, she screams again, clutching the red shirt to her chest to preserve her modesty. "Gilligan!"

His eyes widen as she stands and stares horrified at him. "What are you _doing_ here?!"

"I! Uh, I was just!...Um…" He stammers helplessly. Thankfully, the skipper comes to his rescue as his voice drifts through the trees, calling him. "Oh, um…coming Skipper!" He practically walks on the water's surface in his haste to get out of there before she starts throwing things at him. "Gilligan! Now you wait just a minute!" She stands, holds his shirt to her front to cover herself as she shouts at him. _"Gilligan!"_

"Sorry Mary Ann, the Skipper!" He pauses and it's too tempting to ignore and even though he knows Skipper will probably hit him on the head for lollygagging, he turns anyway and saunters back. She freezes, pulls the shirt closer as he stops at the edge of the water, grinning like a Cheshire. "Oh and by the way…" He says. "Nice shirt, it looks good on you." She fights the smile twitching at the corner of her lips (too surprised to find that he's actually _flirting_ with her) and splashes him, earning a playful laugh from him as he sprints back into the trees.

**Fight – **She doesn't remember how it started. She just knows one minute she's cleaning their hut, sweating out of her clothes because the whole island feels like it's six inches from the sun, trying to ignore Danny's crying in the next room because he's cranky and doesn't want to go to sleep (she hopes he'll tire himself out with his little tantrum) and the next they're in a screaming match. He'd ended up dragging himself home well after dark, stinking and cranky and tired after performing some menial task for the Skipper. He'd plopped down into one of their crudely fashioned chairs and with a heavy sigh, kicked his shoes off and flung them out in the middle of the hut. "Could you please do something with Danny?" He'd asked, "I'm beat."

She'd turned around and snapped at him and when he'd snapped back just as viciously it had grown into a full out screaming match. She wouldn't be surprised if the neighboring islands could hear them, much less the other castaways.

"You know what your problem is?" She snaps, flinging his shoes off into a corner. "No, Mary Ann, I don't! Why don't you tell me!" He waves his arm at her, beckoning her to continue. "C'mon, let's have it!"

"You're terrified of conflict." She says almost smugly, as if she's just stumbled onto some great discovery. He sneers at her with a sardonic grin and delivers a particularly low blow. "How can I be terrified of conflict? I'm married to _you_!"

Her mouth drops open at him and her brows scrunch adorably between her eyes and if he weren't so mad right now, he might think it was cute. She cocks her hips to the side; hand perched there like a bold statement. "If the Skipper calls, _you_ come running! If Ginger spills a cup of pineapple juice on you, _you apologize_! If the Howell's have a job for you even though you have other plans, you say _'oh well'_!" She slaps the table in anger and glares heatedly at him, her face flush and eyes flashing. He clenches his fists by his sides, releases them, clenches again. He's not a fighter by nature, but this woman's got his blood boiling over with her accusations. And she's not done yet.

"You are _so determined_ to be a nice guy, you _refuse_ to stand up for yourself! Not to Skipper, not to the others and _especially_ not to _me!_" She screeches and he's so incensed he yanks his hat off his head, dark locks flipping wildly and throws it across the room. He stalks forward, stops inches away from her. "So you're saying the flaw in our marriage is we don't _fight enough?!_"

She throws her hands up in the air with a screech of frustration. "Oh, for god's sake, Gilligan! Why won't you just admit that you're a wuss and be done with it?!"

"Only if you admit that you're a _bitch_!"

With a growl, she places her palms against his chest and pushes him back. Turns; stalks around the hut, snatching up his shoes and hat and a blanket and shoves them into his arms. "Out!" She screeches as he stares dumbly at her. "What?"

"You heard me! I said get out! If I'm such a _bitch_, then you can just find someone else! Try Ginger, I hear she's _just charming_!" She shoves him backwards again, and his arm catches on the door frame. "You're being childish!" He snaps. "You're not going to kick me out of my own hut!"

"Wanna bet?!" She grabs a banana and flings it at him. He ducks, almost drops his belongings as more follow. "Ow! Dammit, Mary Ann!"

"I said git!" Once he's outside, she slams the door in his face and walks away. He growls as he stomps off, shoving his hat on his head and a stream of expletives that would make even the Skipper cock a brow streaming from his mouth. He doesn't go far; climbs up in the little hammock strung between two palm trees a few yards away from the hut and crosses his arms with a huff. A monkey chitters above him, laughing at him. With a fierce frown, he pulls his hat over his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest and tries to get some sleep.

After a little while, Danny quiets down, the monkey goes away and Gilligan finally lets sleep drag him under.

**Forgive – **He feels a touch on his arm and shifts to slide his hat up over his face. She's kneeling in the sand beside the hammock; in her tattered, old sleep shirt. He stares at her puzzled as she nervously tugs at a lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger in little knots. "I'm sorry…" She whispers and before she can get another word out, he's already turning over, his fingers tangling in the thick, dark hair at the base of her neck as he pulls her into a heated kiss. She grins and grips the front of his t-shirt, pulling him closer; giggling as his foot tangles in the net as he tries to stumble out of it in his haste. He ends up face first in the sand with one leg stuck in the net as she giggles helplessly beside him.

With a series of unintelligible mutters, he makes quick work of the knot, freeing his feet long enough to stand and scoop her up into his arms before practically running back to the hut. He leaves everything forgotten outside; his shoes, his blanket, his hat, their argument. Concentrates only on pressing her into their soft mattress as her hands cup his face; pulls him down into a smoldering embrace and tucks her toes into the hem of his jeans, pushing them down his hips as he works at the buttons of her nightshirt.

**Family – **She'd left after dinner and nobody had seen hide or hair of her since. She'd been a little off all day, but none of them really thought much of it. They'd missed yet another rescue attempt and they all assumed she was still upset. The sun is setting now, and he's climbing the ladder of the watch tower, ready for a long night of staring at nothing but black, rolling waves, hoping for ships' lights. He's startled to find her there, leaning over the rail as casually as if she'd always been there. She must have tried to go to bed early but then changed her mind last second, because she's wearing that long, faded button-up, sleeves rolled to her elbows, over a pair of worn jeans; her bare feet crossed at the ankles. Her hair is loose, drifting lazily in the breeze. It's longer now, brushing well past her shoulder blades. She doesn't seem to have noticed him yet.

She doesn't really look sad, but she doesn't look anything else either. Her face his blank, expressionless as she watches the sun sink lower over the horizon, reds and golds and oranges scattering like remnants of an intricate oil painting. Finally, she moves, raising a hand to rake through her bangs. It creates an attractively disheveled look and he finds he likes the look on her. She looks…real. Not painted up and primped and trying too hard to be movie star perfect.

Just…Mary Ann.

"I was wondering where you disappeared off to." He says and she twists around in surprise. "Gilligan…"

"You ok?"

Mary Ann glances back out to the ocean and frowns. "Not really, but I will be." She says. He comes to stand beside her, crosses his arms and leans on the thick, bamboo railing. "You want to talk about it?"

She mimics his pose, their shoulders brush. "It's stupid really." She mutters, looking away. Gilligan bumps her shoulder with his and grins. "I bet'cha it isn't."

She bites her lips and tugs at a strand of hair over her left shoulder. "I don't know. I'm just feeling sorry for myself I guess. I've had this dream since I was little and…well, it just feels like the longer we're here, the more that dream seems to…fade, I guess."

He looks a little confused, but at least he's listening. She blows a breath through her nose. "My cousin was getting married when I left. I bet she's got a houseful of babies by now." She says. "I wanted that. When I was little, all I ever wanted was to have a family and a little farm of my own. Someone to share it with and just be…happy."

He's got that slightly awkward look on his face, the one where he looks like he would rather run that talk about this sorta thing. She frowns and turns to go. "Like I said, stupid."

Surprise flits across her face when he grabs her arm and gently pulls her back. "No, not stupid." He says. "I…I think you would be a great…mom." She smiles because it's so cute when he's nervous. "Thanks." She says, then starts to leave again. He's still holding her arm though, unrelenting. "You know…it's not impossible." He mutters nervously. "Oh?" She giggles. This should be entertaining.

She places a finger to her chin in thought. "Hmm, well let's see. Mr. Howell, while rich is sadly taken. The Skipper is a bit too old I think." She smiles as she bristles slightly at her. "The Professor, hmm, well he's nice but I think Ginger's got her eye on him." She taps her chin with her fingertip, shrugs helplessly. "There's no one else I guess."

His sputters for a second. "Hey!" He snaps. "I…"

"You are afraid of marriage." She teases.

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not, am not!"

"Oh, please, Gilligan. You wouldn't even pretend to marry me without running away." There's sadness laced with her teasing now and he's starting to feel bad. "Well, that was…I just…"

She pulls her arm away with a sigh. "It's nothing Gilligan. I was just feeling a little sorry for myself, nothing to get worked up over…Goodnight."

He can't help but feel awful watching her walk away, so once more he pulls her back again. "So marry me." He says to his and her utter surprise. She laughs. "What?" He glares at her. "Y…You heard me."

She quirks a slender black brow at him. "You want to marry me? Gilligan, you fall all over yourself if I kiss you on the cheek. I appreciate what you're trying to do, but don't you think you're taking it a little far?"

"No." He says. She gins, knows how to settle this. "Alright then, kiss me." She quips. She swears the color drains from his face. "What?"

"It's what husbands do and if I'm going to marry you, you'll have to be able to kiss me. So, prove it, kiss me."

His adams apple bobs and his hand clenches over her arms but not painfully. She grins in victory because she knows she's won. "Mmm Hmm, that's what I thought." But then he gets this determined look on his face and his arm loops around her waist pulling her close. She stiffens, her heart jolts and begins to jog in her chest. Words stick in her throat as he angles his head down towards her, his eyes flickering from hers to her lips then back again. Her fingers clench in the fabric of his shirt as the gap is closed and he actually kisses her. It's soft and a little clumsy and over far too quickly for her liking.

She smiles as she looks at him because he's actually shaking now, and she can practically see the thoughts racing through his head. He doesn't really want to marry her, he's just Gilligan. He wants to make her feel better and if it means making a complete fool of himself then so be it. She pats his cheek lovingly and kisses him again, her heart fluttering as he somewhat returns it.

"I'm not going to marry you Gilligan." She says pulling away and his shoulders slump and his eyes brighten at the same time and she almost laughs. "But…if you ever decide you actually mean it…" She says shyly, averting her eyes. He frowns, and his fingers flex against her waist. "Well, I might change my mind."

She pulls away and finally, he lets her go.

_2 Years later…_

He's unusually quiet as she goes back to playing with their son, scooping him up and pulling him back into her arms as he keeps flipping onto his stomach and crawling away, laughing hysterically. The words burst from his lips before he even realizes it. "Marry me."


End file.
